


and here he was

by rischaa



Series: five ways to fall in love | jarchie ship week 2017 [3]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Asexual Jughead Jones, Bets & Wagers, Coincidences, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Photography, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, tea: jarchie day 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-16 23:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11263512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rischaa/pseuds/rischaa
Summary: And he hates fucking socializing.But he runs faster than ever anyway.-day 3 for jarchie ship week 2017 | prompt: college au// the jarchie fic where jughead is a photography major and archie is a music major and he really needs that photo that's due in for next week, but he also wants that seat. drama ensues, as well as jealousy.





	and here he was

**Author's Note:**

> this is slightly longer and i'm not that all proud of it but read on anyways. **also, jughead's ace/ asexual here with the boundaries of being fine with kissing. he's asocial here with tendencies to panic as well.**
> 
> hope you enjoy reading this~  
> -  
> 

His hands run through the flips of the pages and noticed the brightly highlighted flowing words in a ridiculous neon orange in his planner. He never used neon orange unless it was important and this was due this damn weekend too! He looks at it and feels the panic rouse from his procrastinating state from a few hours settled in. He looks at the details as he weaves his finger in anxiety as he reads even further.

 

This project was going to be the death of him. It had to include a person? He wasn’t that close to anyone, except maybe for Betty, but she was in another college miles away. He’d get a bus but damn it all! He’s tired and sleep deprived. He needs a willing victim within the vicinity of this fucking American state.

 

He decides he’d do something with sunsets and its symbolism. If he worked on this enough and painting it with lies and what the person and the natural lighting used means to him; he might just scrape by through with the spectrum of a B. Sunsets were definitely his favorite thing to take picture of leisurely and although he’d never use it as a background for his photos to avoid getting a failure grade; maybe just this time. He didn’t understand how his fucked-up professor wouldn’t like anything to do with sunsets.

 

He takes a glance at the clock above his slightly desk illuminated by the dimly lit lamp at the side. It’s still early; he can still catch someone who’d hang out this late afternoon at the campus. After all, some people hung back just to enjoy the silence of less students in certain places such as the park nearby the hilly desert.

 

Now, if he could just put these stupid jeans up his legs! _There, finally!_

 

Jughead grabs his hat before leaving; slinging the goddamn camera he almost forgot. He slams the door loud enough for someone from down the hallway to scream curse words drowsily. And people say college students are lazy. Yeah, fuck that. They’re just kids who’re sleep deprived and made to do fucked up projects like these that make then socialize.

 

And he hates fucking socializing.

 

But he runs faster than ever anyway.

* * *

Jughead find someone singing and strumming his guitar benches nearest to the background he’s quite familiar with. The soft orange and yellow pastels hitting the dark sandy brown desert with streaks of blue and light red painting the sky. Usually, it’d be a little bit more blue, but- that wasn’t his problem. He needs a victim for his project. And that guy playing the guitar would be perfect right now in his very place.

 

But then- since he was brought up as a nice and respectful kid, he’d have to approach him and ask for permission ruining his pretty, natural aesthetic. _Damn it all!_

 

He walks to him and the singing becomes more pronounced and his voice was soft and low, a little raspy, but perfect for the tone of whatever song he was playing. But he swears it sounds so familiar and he doesn’t know where he’s heard it before. He could care less about it now since he had a project to finish, but goddamn it sounds so familiar.

 

“Hey, look, I know you probably want to be alone and play music. But, I need a favor from you, so will you stay in the same position to be my sub- “

 

“You’re not asking me to be your sexual partner, right?” At this point in time, the guy he’s meant to be asking from a favor has struck a certain type of anger in him. He’s fucking frustrated and of- _fucking-_ course, this red headed piece of shit decides to turn and show his very beautiful graced upon face. And it’s-

 

It’s _him._ The _bastard_ who stole his seat he’s been sitting in for the past eight weeks. The _pretty faced bastard_ who he allowed to sit there just because he was fucking done with life at that moment. The _very hot bastard_ he wasn’t supposed to be slightly attracted to who he’s fought with just for his seat right after their lecture.

 

Of course, only he’d have this horrifying luck just days away from his deadline.

 

_Only him and his luck._

 

“No, you seat-stealer,” he sneers at him, continuing with a more calmed tone, “I was going to ask permission to take a picture of you for my project due days away. When I said _subject_ ,” he squints his eyes accusingly at this confused redhead, “I didn’t mean being a ‘sub’ in a relationship, you, kinky bastard.

 

“Hey, don’t kink shame people!” Jughead swears if he wasn’t acquainted with person long before, he would’ve punched him in the face at this very minute, “Uh… sorry, continue.”

 

“ _Yeah, sorry!_ You weren’t even sorry for the seat you stole that was mine in our English literature class!”

 

“There’s no designation of seats in college, you idiot!”

 

“I’ve been sitting there for the past eight weeks! _Eight!_ That guarantees me rights to that seat! Now I have to sit a little further and I swear if I fail that class, I’m blaming it all on you,” the redhead’s standing up now and their faces are quite close together, the tension extremely heavy.

 

He backs away and sighs exasperatedly, “So, I was just about to ask you to be my victim for my project since you looked all prett- kinda okay just a few minutes ago in your position. But, seeing as you were the person who stole my seat in my literature class, I mig- “

 

“I’ll do it.”

 

“What?”

 

“I said, I’ll do it. I mean hey, the seat’s not my fault since the class was packed. But on one condition,” Jughead sneers at Archie, “If you get an A in your project, I’ll sit there for the rest of this year. You can have it next year. If you get anything lower, you can have it back,” Archie has this wide grin across his face and it’s all Jughead is focused on aside from the deal he’s proposing.

 

“That’s… a stupid deal, but-” Jughead sighs heavily, “Fine.”

 

“I’m guaranteeing you that A,” Archie’s words all seem like a lie.

 

He turns away from him and he hears a small laugh as he does so. It rings memorably in his ears. _Fuck him and his life._ He wasn’t supposed to be doing this. He needed that A for his report and he really wanted that seat back. It was the perfect seat. It wasn’t cold as it was in the back where all the air conditioners were nor being it hot from the shining light from the open windows in their classroom. It was warm there and he could hear Parkinson loud and clear.

 

Damn it.

 

Might as well go through it.

 

He hopes he doesn’t regret making this deal.

* * *

Jughead regrets everything. He’s done and fed up with sitting in the coldest part of the room and he can’t help but stare at the seat where his victim was sitting at. His precious seat, he had once sat in. He wasn’t one to make a huge fuss about it all but, really, he was just attached to the perfect seat in the entire lecture room. it wasn’t like it was his fault.

 

Once in a while, he’d see the _rude seat stealer_ steal glances towards him with that smirk. And god, if he continued such things, his heart and mind might as well explode into gruesome pieces. His hazel eyes would pierce through him as he stared at the back his chair meaning he had noticed.

 

So, he comes early this Tuesday and rushes to his seat where he bumps into the very person he’s been trying to get his seat back from. He’s wearing a camo jacket and this plain mint green shirt under and it pairs so well with his red hair and hazelnut eyes. If he wasn’t so pretty and such a _nice_ douche, god… he’s really hit that point of low in his life.

 

He wasn’t even supposed to attracted to him!

 

“So, you come early for _my_ seat, huh?”

 

“It’s mine, really.”

 

“Well for now, it’s mine.”

 

“It’s really mine. Just let me sit here for one lecture and we’ll be even.”

 

“Not until that B on your project or anything lower, uh- I just realized I don’t have your name,” the redhead fidgets and he looks at the seat. People are pouring into their lecture, fuck, they needed this sorted out. If anything, he was sitting here this lesson and not get distracted any longer from this person’s face.

 

“Call me Jug- “

 

“Mr. Andrews and Mr. Jones! What do you think you’re doing standing around like standbys in my class? Don’t you think it’s inappropriate to do so?” And Parkinson strikes even before he can say his name and sort this out.

 

Jughead turns his head around and notices the entire room is fully packed. Holy shit, he did not expect people to get seated so quickly. Was there a test of some sorts today? Right, it was a Tuesday today. Of course, there was one; one that people actually came early for so they could get it over with. Of all the times…

 

“Sorry, Professor. It’s just- “

 

“I don’t want to hear it! Both of you straight to my office!”

 

Oh, well, _fuck._

 

The things this guy gets him in is unfathomable. It’s like he’s the epitome of all trouble and yet he chooses to meddle with him at all costs. He doesn’t even know why he agreed for him to be his subject of the picture. He could’ve travelled all the way to Betty and asked her, but he _just_ wasn’t bothered to. She was what he’d call a natural when it came to her being a subject. He used her as his muse quite a lot on his photography website and he’s always get e-mails of whether they were together or something like so.

 

They weren’t anything like that. It was more of a deal. She’d get to express herself, her words not his really, and he’d get to take pictures and earn just enough from people who like them to live. It was a win-win situation but of course, they were friends.

 

Now, he didn’t understand why his brain would make such stupid choices to land him in an existential crisis about his sexuality. After all, he had this figured long time back in high school which actually was just two years ago… but- still! He wasn’t supposed to be sexually attracted to anyone but when he looked at this guy who randomly just swept into his life by raising his temper because of his seat. Those damn gorgeous eyes of his, fuck, they were beauties.

 

“What are you thinking of so much that it’s got you making that face?”

 

“What face?” his voice brings him back to reality like he’s been pulled by a safety string back into place.

 

“That face where you look frustrated but it’s kind of- uh, don’t judge me, but it’s a cute frustrated face. Like your eyebrows knit together and you have this steady gaze?”

 

_This guy… he swears._

 

“None of your damn business.”

 

“Huh… were you perhaps thi- “

 

“Thinking about _you?_ ” he spits the word out like venom, his face scrunching up.

 

“Not what I was going to say, but okay. Let’s talk about those times I could feel you staring at back then,” his voice becomes very playful and cheery, almost dangerous. Jughead knows he shouldn’t go any further and that smile of his makes it even worse for him.

 

He decides to take a risk because what’s the worst that could come out of this guy’s mouth?

 

“I really wasn’t. More of like admiring the bottom of my chair. Not yours,” he sneered at him.

 

“Admit it, you were staring at me miles away,” he teased him.

 

Oh, he’s playing _that_ game. Two can play at _this_ very game. Oh, he can play alright.

 

“So what if I was?” he jeered at him with a smirk and noticing the blush creeping up his freckles, “Or maybe I was staring at _my_ chair you stole.”

 

Then he hears the sweetest laugh and the most innocent he’s ever heard. It rings loudly in his hears and resonates throughout the entire hallway. It’s so sweet, so innocent, so intoxicating. He wants that very laugh as his fucking alarm ringtone, then maybe he’d wake up less grumpy than normal every morning.

 

God, that laugh was _heaven. No! He did not just- damn it!_

 

“That was lame. Real la-fuck, wai- no, you did not just-” Archie’s laugh ceases as he realizes the innuendo behind his words. There’s this pretty blush painting his speckled cheeks accompanying a scene where he bites his lips.

 

“Yes, I _just_ did,” he starts to walk away; he shoves his hands into his denim jacket pockets and whispers the words suggestively. He looks at him and lets words slip off his tongue like they were coated with sugar and honey; alluring enough for his face to turn the color of ripe tomatoes, “Meet me at the park at five o’clock sharp. You know where.”

 

He lets his voice trail off and walks away from Parkinson’s office carelessly. He immediately clutches his chest once he thinks he’s out of his vision and feels the extreme heat creeping up his cheeks. He bites his lips and wills the fluttery feelings in his stomach to go away.

 

He doesn’t even know his damn name and he’s giving him such a crisis.

 

He _so_ knows he’s very much getting in trouble with Parkinson later but-

 

Jughead’s got some pictures to take.

 

With _him._

* * *

It’s beautiful. The hills are very much alive with life and the skies are painted with a baby blue clashing with a pretty royal blue along with streaks of pastel yellow, orange and pink. The coal colored ground fitted perfectly in gradient within the scenery seen through his lens. He noticed a figure standing, his hands in pockets wearing a yellow beige pullover.

 

He walked a little closer and it seemed like he was in his own world, his thoughts to himself. His smile could be seen slightly through his eyes piercing through the oxygen. This man was gorgeous in ways Jughead couldn’t describe. He could compare him to the skies and yes, he’d be that. He was confusing enigma Jughead had clashed with during a certain English Literature lecture. He was the calm blue yet deep as the royal hues. This man was the brash red and light hearted dark orange along with the soft yet teasing pink.

 

He didn’t even seem to notice him taking a photo of him. It feels as though he semmed to notice a little bit though. When he looked back at it, it was perfection for his project. The low angle, the natural lighting reflected on his pullover, the expression. This was bound to definitely get him…

 

“Boo,” he stands up greeting him.

 

“Oh, you’re here already,” it’s a deadpan response sending concern running through his veins.

 

“Hell yeah, I was. You ready? You seemed out of it for a while,” he urged him to tell what was on his mind, not so subtly to speak of.

 

“Oh, I was just- never mind. So, you just want to take a photo, right? Let’s get to it.”

 

“Before that, I never caught your name, seat-stealer. You wouldn’t like to be remembered by that forever, right?”

 

There was hesitation in his reply like he was suddenly cautious around him. He seemed nervous even; it wasn’t like he was going to hurt him. Then his name creates sweet sounding ripples through the landscape.

 

“Archie Andrews.”

 

“Isn’t that short for… what was it?”

 

“Just get to it, already.”

 

“Sheesh, what’s with you? Anyways, just act natural. Do anything. Walk, smile, or whatever you’re comfortable with,” he shoos him away and he sees him frown and look at the sun setting. He has this forlorn and frustrated expression smeared all around his body.

 

This wasn’t right. He seemed less at ease than he was when he took a candid shot of him. he had looked happier and more relaxed at the time with a sense of naturalism at it. He takes the photos nevertheless from all sorts of angles as Archie moves restlessly. Now, this was too much for him. He wasn’t relaxed at all. Archie seemed to just want this over.

 

Over and fucking done with. But, Jughead wasn’t that easy. No, he’s going to get a better photo than that very first one. Definitely. He wasn’t going to deal with a restless and anxious Archie fucking Andrews right now.

 

This wasn’t the Archie he had met. This was a whole different side of him.

 

He walks to him and grabs the sides of Archie’s arms startling him. His eyes widen and they seem a little scared of him. He has this troubled expression on him which makes him sigh and looks upward hoping the gods would help him with this man or so. _Or so_ his heart was going to burst in confusion and fast beatings.

 

“Look, relax. It’s just me. Good ‘ol Jughead Jones here. Pretend like I’m not even taking a photo of you at all. Talk to me to calm yourself if you want,” he looks into his eyes and they flicker a brighter shade making him even mesmerized with them. Wisps of Archie’s hair falls in front of them as the wind blows by. He notices the freckles decorating his pale cheeks, “You have freckles… they’re beautiful.”

 

“That’s the first nice thing you’ve ever said to me.”

 

“I know.”

 

He does take a better picture. The same damn picture but if looking wistful and contemplative within the picture made it more flawless than ever; then damn, this was definitely the best picture he’s taken. It’s pretty and intoxicating, his figure drawing you in, making you wonder about his thoughts.

 

Archie Andrews… he was so many things. A man who was an anxious college student who played music quite passionately if he might say so. He was that person who blushed when he made suggestive jokes. He was that person who’d try to come up with suggestive comebacks soon blushing when realizing his very own intents at doing so. He was that beautiful man with gorgeous red hair, hazel eyes, and starry freckles.

 

“Look at the stars, Jughead,” right, it was night already. They had spent so much time trying to calm themselves down and getting the right angle as well as the right position… _oh shit!_ Now that he thought about it, he still had to write an entire essay about this and its symbolism. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

 

He shuts his camera off and packs it away in his bag. He straightens his hat and starts to stand up from the bench they were sitting on when Archie gets a grip on his wrist stopping him. He looks almost sad to see him leave.

 

“Archie, I still have to write an essay and it’s due in a day or so.”

 

“You’ll be fine,” he tries to reassure him setting the panic ablaze in him.

 

“Will I _really_ be fine? Writing an essay about the angle, then the lighting, then about background and then about my muse. I have to tie it all up together and then I have to insert my thoughts about it,” he feels like he’s a train close to running out coal; similar to running out of breath really, “I-  oh my fucking god, and the things I have type down about you and the symbolism is going to be so tiring and it’s due so soon. What the fuck do I- I don’t even- No, no, _no…_ I’m going to get such a low grade and then I’m going to have to drop out so that I’m more of a shame. Fuck, wha- “

 

He feels himself getting pushed down to an uncomfortable position, one where he’s partially sitting down but very uncomfortable at that. His right wrist was being gripped tightly by Archie and something was even more surprising than him getting suddenly pulled down and his right wrist being held so tightly. That other thing was that his lips… were very much occupied at the moment.

 

He wouldn’t have fathomed for it to happen all of a sudden. What surprised him even further was that he tasted of maple syrup and mint. The underlying taste of mint was probably from the gum he sees him carry around. He had probably eaten pancakes in the morning but why would he kiss him? Or another better question was why the actual hell was he not pulling away.

 

Jughead wasn’t even pulling away nor was Archie. He was replicating the same actions for some unknown goddamn reason and it spiked fear in his chest. The rush of sudden adrenaline with the sweet yet weird taste of maple syrup and mint. It was weird. He pulls away for a split second to catch a small breath, his eyes are closed now and it’s weird how he kind of likes this.

 

He doesn’t understand the workings of it all. Was kissing fine with him? It was confusing yet he wanted to kiss him albeit. Jughead wanted this; it was intoxicating the sudden calm rushing tides and foamy waves over him. There was that fluttery feeling again. The heat creeping up his body and cheeks and the rapid heartbeat thumping away in his chest/

 

He was kissing him. _Wait. Hold up._

 

He, Jughead Jones, a fellow asexual who hated Archie just a few weeks ago was… what? He was kissing _Archie._ Archie _fucking_ Andrews?

 

Oh, he’s definitely fucked really bad to have ended up at this point. He wasn’t even supposed to have enjoyed that kiss.

 

He pushes him away hearing his name being faintly repeated as his shoes carry him away almost forgetting the bag with his camera in it. Jughead runs like his life depends on it. His heart is beating faster than ever as his mind decides to torture him with a broken movie player of the feeling. Of the memory. He feels like screaming. His life was so fucked up and it’s become such a mess.

 

The very core of that blushing mess (he wouldn’t say blushing, but-)?

 

_Archie. Archie Andrews. Archie fucking Andrews._

_That damned redhead._

* * *

He’s been typing for the past three hours and yet all he’s been doing was rewrite the entire essay from scratch. He’s try to start with a simple sentence. A base of his essay, but somehow, he’d always end up thinking about _him_ and write a couple sentences about _him_. This project was due in a few hours and yet here he was with a mind replaying moments with that redhead!

 

Jughead looks at the picture above his essay. It haunts him; an easy reminder of what had he just done from a few hours ago. That ki- _ah!_ Not now! He didn’t need this now. What he needed was a finished essay in the span of three hours and he was going to get an A no matter what. After all, it was his major unlike that stupid English Literature class with _him._ He might as well not care for the damned seat. He could have it all for himself if he wanted.

 

And he writes. He writes a decent half of the essay about the components excluding _him_. And it’s when it hits him that he really does have to write about him and there was nothing he could do to escape from him.

 

Jughead looks at the picture once again and notices how the soft light enhances his wistful look; and how it looks like he’s in his own world and very much encapsulated within it. It looked pretty and he really did look like he was a part of the environment- a natural of he’d say so. He sighs, closing his eyes as well, as he threw his head back to stare at the ceiling.

 

“I swear I don’t like him…”

 

“I really don’t,” he mutters to a nonexistent person, the ceiling just echoing back his hushed words. It was oh so very silent and it made him feel hollow.

 

Damn it, all these confusing feelings! He didn’t need them. He didn’t need this man to confuse his life with a crisis about attraction or even getting somehow stuck on the walls of his mind. This better end well, or else his life would definitely be out of control for the next few years.

 

He submits it with a remaining thirty-two minutes until deadline. And he can’t help but to feel this tight grip suffocating his lungs and heart refusing him any leeway to breathing. He was supposed to feel relieved, right? After all, he had submitted it in time; but now…

 

But now, there he was stuck in this position of being unable to breathe like something else still wasn’t resolved. Now, he was stuck knowing what the problem was and he didn’t want to confront it. He should’ve really known; known that if he got too close… people would actually like him and he hated that. He hates people and how they work. Not knowing what’s on their mind and what could happen next.

 

When he walks back to his dorm, it’s when that tight feeling in his heart gets damn suffocating. His breathing hitches and his nerves go numb. The sun so high up, its rays shining in glory upon the rendezvouses happening in campus. And he had stumbled upon one he should’ve expected. Or one he should’ve not even reacted to.

 

Jughead’s current situation could really be compared to someone drowning with no one to help him. His body was paralyzed to the ground as if poison had entered his nerves. His breathing was filled with emptiness and his vision was getting blurry.

 

What was this? Why was he even acting like this?

 

It was just one kiss and maybe around five days of bantering around him. He shouldn’t have gotten attached to him at all. If he wasn’t, then he could have dismissed it as something else and not given a certain fuck for it but here he was. Here he was standing at the end of the ground floor’s stairs with a Blossom kissing _him._

 

And it sends him frozen in state. He couldn’t even tear his eyes away. He feels _so numb._ So, he decides the very thing he should’ve done when he met him.

 

That was to avoid the fuck out of him.

 

Oh, _this better fucking work._

* * *

It works for the next month and half; that is until they keep these awkward glances towards each other and how they position themselves in places where they’re ridiculously close to together. It was this beautifully crafted tension they both created within such a small amount of time and it’s killing him.

 

It’s frustrating to see him act normal or even be with _Cher(r)yl on a Fucking Blossom Sundae._ It wasn’t like he was jealous or that he was avoiding him because he saw him kiss her. Or that he was scared of getting attached any further. Oh, well, fuck, maybe he was. But that didn’t explain why the damned idiot would try to be as close to him as possible. They barely even talked, less than when they first did, but there was something about the rudely created frustrating silence around them.

 

After all, silence was a type of response speaking volumes.

 

It was tiring for it to happen when he could sense him follow him to spots nearby the campus. Seeing him work at his usual diner near the dorms? That was even more tiring when he’d try to always ask this raven girl, Veronica, more or less liked being called Ron or Ronnie to take his orders. Throughout the entire months and a half, he’s only bumped into him once and it resulted in him not paying for the bill and stutterings.

 

He just wanted to stay away from him, but goddamn, it was hard.

 

“Something on your mind, Juggie?”

 

“Don’t call me that, Ron.”

 

“The usual, then?”

 

“Yes, it’s just- “he takes a quick glance where Archie’s taking an order from a pretty couple with smiles on their face, “- yeah, never mind, I’ll have the usual.”

 

“It’s him, huh?” she takes a seat instead of getting his order to Pops and she has this smirk on her face, “You, poor little lovesick college boy. All the ‘what ifs’ running ‘round your head and all the jealousy wreaking havoc won’t do you no good, Juggie. Honestly, just talk to him.”

 

“Don’t make it sound as if I’m infatuated. Look, I come here for Pop’s killer burgers and coffee, not for _him,”_ he sneers at Veronica shooing here away hoping she’d get his food. He really was starving and if he didn’t get his order any minute now, he was going to murder someone, “I swear- “

 

“Ronnie! We’re working our lives out here! Get back here- “A platter of burger and fries slides down his booth and he turns his head to see Archie hollering at Ronnie and carrying a huge platter of orders, “- Ronnie, if you don’t get here, I’m outing you to Pops!”

 

“Looks like I gotta go! G’bye Jughead!”

 

A cup of perfectly brewed coffee comes his way minutes later as he takes one bite of the burger, fries already gone. Huh… when had that happened? Guess, he really was hungry after all. He checks the clock on the other side of Pop’s Chock’Lit Shoppe, but really it was more of a diner, and he can barely squint the time of a ticking eight thirty.

 

Ah, when his shift ends… _guess it’s time to leave soon then._

 

“So, why are we avoiding each other?”

 

“I’m not avoiding you or anything,” he murmurs, quickly finishing the burger; standing up and walking to the door until there’s that very similar grip _again_ on his wrist. He needs to breathe and yet here he was, god-; why did he ever walk over to him that afternoon?

 

It hurts. Everything hurts. His mind’s thoughts feel like overwhelming rushes of waves during a hurricane. He can feel him loosen his grip and he takes a small breath, it’s just a tad bit okay. He needs to hide, but here he was next to him, the speckled night sky mocking him.

 

Archie was too much. Just why couldn’t he stay far away enough so that he won’t get hurt in the long run? He was the tree branch holding a noose to suffocate him. He was intoxicatingly sweet and poison to his fragile heart with breaking walls. He was the oranges and reds in the color spectrum and he, the asocial (or antisocial, he never was sure) one, was the blue and the black.

 

Blue and black- colors with the lack for better words- anxious and sadness. Dreading sadness seeped through his veins and he couldn’t help but look at the stars of the sky. It reminds him of Archie’s freckles. Jughead can’t breathe when he takes a glance at Archie who stops by the public park near Pop’s. When he sits, he can hear the clarity of his faulty breathing like the creaking of unoiled hinges of a door. The screeching wind laughs at his pain and he can’t help but ga-

 

Lips touch the edge of his ear ridiculously and words being warmly whispered in his ears. His heartbeat can’t help but race faster; he curses at himself. The tight grip on his heart loosens even for a free second and it’s so hard to not break down. Archie’s here doing things like so and yet here he pondering over his issues and fears.

 

“Please,” he croaks out softly, “leave, Archie.”

 

“I’m not going to avoid you. I’m right here and I’m not going to leave.”

 

“It’s just, I’m just so –” he means to say ‘confused’ but the words don’t come out. Instead, he starts a new sentence with regret, _why was he even trying? this was stupid,_ and it tumbles out slowly and carefully out of his mouth, “I- I’m not good at stuff like this. With feelings and relationships.”

 

“Ha-yeah, I know that; that you’ve been trying to push me away ever since,” Archie laughs it off, nerves on edge, biting his bottom lip repeatedly causing red to appear. Jughead can feel him breathing so close, it gives a small scare towards his heart. The tension was so darn thick, Jughead could cut through it.

 

Archie seems to want to say something, but it hangs uselessly in the air; silence overtaking their voices lumped like rocks chucked down their throat.

 

“I really like you,” Jughead vehemently confesses slowly; his eyes still looking steady at the asphalt ground, hands fidgeting with each other. He’s scared when he says it; his heartbeat is throbbing so fast he can barely breathe.

 

“W-wait, what?”

 

“I really like you and it’s not even because of the jealousy! I’m just- I really like you and I’m not good at this,” he explains, knots forming in his throat, “You must’ve noticed by now that I try to disclose myself a lot.”

 

“Jealousy?” Archie’s voice raises an octave higher, “Wait, you don’t mean that Cher- “

 

“Who else did you think it was?”

 

“I don’t know. Really, I- uh, uhm… never mind. You-ah, yeah never mind,” Jughead lifts his head up to look at Archie and he’s all but gazing back at him, “You’re really close to me right now.”

 

“I know,” is all Archie says before it happens _again._

 

This time it’s okay. It’s a little sudden but it’s okay. It’s slow and gentle, Archie’s fingers tickle his earlobes then settling for his nape; then it suddenly feels hot. Extremely hot, his fingers drumming on his nape carefully and his thumb rubbing circles. Archie doesn’t force his way through the kiss, but the gentle touch as their lips push and pull makes him crave for so.

 

It was so simple yet when they pulled away for a small breath, he sees the dark maple hues in Archie’s lidded eyes as they shut close, pulling Jughead in for another. Jughead leans in for _\- ah, really, he can’t help it._ He really wants him. Jughead’s fingers weave through his red hair receiving groans from Archie and a sudden faster pace.

 

Everything feels like it’s boiling hot. His skin feels like it’s touching the hot metal kettle after it’s come off the stove. His lips feel like they’re touching tempered chocolate, hot and intoxicatingly sweet. His entire body feels as if it was burning, almost ready to combust. Jughead was sure that there was to be a slight red tint coloring his cheeks after this.

 

_Fuck, god, this is just-_

He whispers sweet dripping honey-like words of repetition as they are mere millimeters apart, lips swollen fuchsia pink, before a peck reaches the redhead’s lips once again.

 

“Mmhm, I know, Jug.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> the picture mentioned is this photo that cole took of kj found [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/BSmJSwrAn5R/%0A)  
> -  
> hope you liked that and leave a kudo or comment if you did~  
> -  
> hmu on mah [ tumblr](https://chrischaa.tumblr.com/)  
> if ya wanna scream about jarchie or beronica or riverdale or or anything basically


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